Learning from my Younger Self

Hello Worldette, 

This evening I was inspired to open my journal and pull out a piece a paper that has been tucked away for over three and a half years. This piece of paper, a hand written reflection I wrote during the "Re-orientation" retreat during my year in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps, is one I like to look back on occasionally to remember where I was then and what has brought me to where I am now. I shared the following with a group of fellow volunteers back then, and I will share it with you now. It shows a different, more quiet side of myself that does not come out very often - but with some amazing Jesuits making their way into the public life lately (one I met in NYC during my JV year, James Martin, wrote this amazing article recently), it has reminded me of how much my life and perspective has been formed and impacted by them. 

I have found joy in a quiet church.

This may sound like something that should be fairly obvious, especially with my being someone who was raised in the Catholic Church. But ever since I was young, the idea of a church with no people in it, with few lights on, was one that gave me the creeps more than joy. Just think about it - you're in a really big room, a place where countless dead people have rolled through, a place which is getting its main source of light from candles and dim sunlight streaming in through stained glass. It sounds like the setting for a scary movie more than a place to find joy. But I found it - unexpectedly.

My placement in JVC is a youth minister position at a parish in New York City. This position was the last one I expected to get, considering I am hardly one that can describe herself as a "good" Catholic. But I accepted, realizing that God had more planned for me than I could have imagined.

When I came to work in "God's house" (the church), I rarely went into the main sanctuary. Other than weekly mass, I saw no real reason to walk in (except for that one time when I had discovered the movie "Keeping the Faith" had been filmed there - and I went in to see for myself). I knew that devout parishoners came in all the time to pray, but I still got that slightly creeped-out feeling at the idea of that room. 

A couple weeks into my JVC experience, though, I was moved to go and sit there one afternoon. My cover was that I was going in to "pray," but really I just wanted to take a nap for a few minutes... who was going to say I wasn't praying? Who would care? I went in, walked to the door, tapped myself with holy water and moved towards the pews. Just as I was about to walk in the main sanctuary, though, I was nearly assaulted by a pigeon! (It fluttered right past my head from behind.)

I immediately realized that God was telling me to wake up and pay attention. (Or at least I now felt guilty for my original motivation and decided that I would consciously pray and sit with God in His house.)

When I sat down to pray, it surprised me how calming the sanctuary actually way. I was able to sit and unload my mind, to lift up my burdens to God. When I did this, I realized how much of a load I was carrying around with me - things like what we've mentioned today, everything in my world - it had built up, and I was cracking under the pressure I had refused to give to God. 

So I unloaded my mind; and then I listened. The church was actually the most ideal place I could have imagined to such an activity. It was relaxing to be in a dim place, to hear the humming of older ladies praying the rosary. I was having a quiet moment - one that I had not allowed myself up until that point. 

And then I heard one distinct, complete sentence; a complete idea in my head. I immediately knew that this thought was not my own, that God had told me one thing that would not only ease some of the pressure I put on myself, but also would challenge me to change my actions. I LOVED IT. This was joy. 

I finally was able to open my heart and let God in, and He let me know that He was listening and that I was loved. 

It wasn't easy, and it still is quite a daunting challenge to remember to pray, and to make a quiet moment for myself. Sometimes I forget about my little encounter with some sort of divine spark, but going into the church now no longer gives me a creepy feeling. No - I feel calm, I feel joy. 

Wow. I think I could learn a little from my younger self. Just four years ago, I was able to push the clutter of life aside and give my time to others and to my faith  (and share it with 70 others in a large room). Now with the way we all over-extend ourselves, constantly interact with technology, and multi-task at a break-neck pace, it's hard to find those moments to compose our thoughts and find calm without staying up an extra hour to unwind properly. It doesn't take a faith in God to feel the value of a quiet moment to organize thoughts, or to find peace. Just letting ourselves be, without the sensory stimulation of a half dozen technologies at once could likely lead to a much balanced life, even if for just five minutes a day.  I know I rarely allow myself to stop all the doing in my life to just have internal quiet and peace, but I might just start making that time for myself, minute by minute. I am going to start allowing nothingness, internal quiet and peace, to come into my life from time-to-time. Maybe more epiphanies will come from the dimly lit rooms of my mind. 

I encourage you, Worldette, to stop yourself for a moment. When you get into your car at the end of the day, or when you step outside to take a lunch, or any time that is not committed - resist the urge to look at your phone, or to immediately get to your next destination in a hurry, give your self a moment and just be. Be with you. It's pretty awesome company to have.